


What happened to Bravo One?

by SpaderTre



Category: Generation Kill, Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Team Sweden, Tre Kronor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaderTre/pseuds/SpaderTre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always wondered why Bravo Company deployed to Iraq in 2003 with only Second and Third Platoons. Why was there no Bravo One? And what would have happened if it was?</p>
<p>Recently, I realized that there is almost as many people in a Recon platoon as in a hockey team. And, well, this is what happened ten seconds after that realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happened to Bravo One?

**Author's Note:**

> In Generation Kill we learn that First Recon's three front companies together held eight platoons. Why Bravo is lacking its First Platoon (Bravo One) is never explained, and this is irritating me to no end (together with other questions, as why Colbert and Espera but noone else wears the new camoflague pattern on their uniforms, and why Person is called Ray in the TV-series but Josh in the book, and probably twenty other things).
> 
> That - however - is no excuse for this.

Major Todd Eckloff often proudly told himself that in the end, it all had come down to him. Godfather had been prepared to send First Recon Battalion to Kuwait decimated, with only two platoons in Bravo Company, and with weeks left to Christmas it had looked like the only possibility.  
The first platoon in Bravo had been doing great in Afghanistan, but had suffered so much afterwards that when September ended Godfather had made the call to stop recruiting and leaving Bravo One half empty at Pendleton, should the call come for a mission next spring. It had been logical to make sure the other units were manned properly and focus on planning for the next trip to Afghanistan.

When it turned out to be Iraq instead, and Eckloff heard of Mattis’s plan of maneuver warfare, he had got a feeling. He would later describe it as realization had dawned when he was walking up the corridor at Margarita for a coffee refill in early December. He just suddenly saw that one more platoon would make it easier to split the battalion in three, making it more maneuverable, if Bravo had strength equal to Alpha and Charlie. He started talking to Major Whitmer, the Operations Officer who was walking next to him in the same errand, and suddenly Bravo One was back. Major Whitmer would later recall that he had pointed out the same reasons for filling up Bravo One repeatedly since September, but he told the Battalion XO nothing about it. Instead, it fell on him to actually make it happen.

Bravo’s own commander just nodded and said “Yeah” when faced with the new fact. Instead it was the Company First Sergeant, 1stSgt Morris, who teamed up with Whitmer and the central Marine recruitment and transfer office to get in enough Marines to fill it up.

When orders came, the senior enlisted man in the platoon was 1stSgt Alfredsson. He had been promoted since returning from Afghanistan and was one of the most experienced men in the battalion. As the need for platoon sergeants and higher senior enlisted was low (“experienced boots to make sure the young ones stand in line is actually the only thing we have in excess”, Morris sighed) Alfredsson had been left in charge of what was left of the platoon.

Since July, the platoon had lost three of its most experienced members. One team leader had been injured in a helicopter accident at parachuting school and still suffered back pains that looked to be chronic, and an RTO fell under mountain warfare training and the shattered bones needed repeated surgery. Finally, an ATL transferred out after disagreeing with his team. All this weighed on already heavy minds. In the early spring they had lost their medical support HM3 Liv. Liv had been asked to stay behind in Afghanistan to help evacuate wounded soldiers in Hindukush, and the aircraft had been shot down, killing five corpsmen, sixteen wounded and a crew of four. 

Now none of the teams where at full strength, even included the men who were off at diving and parachuting schools. SSgt Zetterberg’s team had been number one in Afghanistan, and was the only one with four members today. For training purposes Team 2 and 3 had been merged, and even so they were one man short. And there was no platoon commander in sight.

Turning every rock available all the way up to Christmas, Whitmer and Morris finally got enough green lights from Transfer to be able to report that Bravo One should be able to fill up on paper before January 1st. How many weeks of training that would give the platoon was impossible to say, but at least it would look good on said paper, which seemed to be the Company Commander’s first priority. Favors had been called in, promises had been made and one of the members in Team One had managed to track down his brother in a LAR battalion and convince him to transfer. 1stSgt Alfredsson had brought in young men he hadn’t seen since he run boot camp with them two years earlier, and Morris had teamed up with the injured TL of Team Three to convince a former member to return. Whitmer had gone to extreme lengths to try and find an officer to take on this patched up version of a Recon platoon. In the end, he managed to convince the superiors of one of his top candidates, a 1stLT Backstrom who had been recommended by the previous Operations Officer. Backstrom was not yet 25, but had experience from Afghanistan with Second Recon. Second did not let him go easily – whatever happened in Iraq, they would be slated to go next – but Whitmer managed to convince them. When he put the phone down he was a little unsure of what he actually had promised to Second Recon’s XO, but he pushed it off his mind. He had got a commander for Bravo One, and the rest could be dealt with later.

Backstrom arrived at Pendleton January 2nd, fresh from New Year’s celebration at Lejeune. He was reading the array of signs and directions while maneuvering the rental, and managed to get out of the way for a maniac looking corporal in a Humvee with camouflage pattern only on one side, driving like he was on the freeway. Saving his headlights by a hair, Backstrom turned back out on the gravel road and followed at a more civil speed. He soon found First Recon’s head quarters, only to realize that the only person in was the Sergeant Major. Sixta managed to greet him without stop looking like a bulldog, and pointed him in the direction of his CO’s office.  
The door was closed and Backstrom knocked and straightened his back while waiting for the door to open. The greeting surprised him by coming from his left.  
“Lieutenant Backstrom?” Morris came up the corridor. “I heard you were on your way; nice to have you to join us.”  
They shook hands, and Morris introduced himself:  
“I’m Derek Morris. The CO is still on leave, but come with me. I’ll show you to your fellow platoon commanders.”  
Down the corridor, past more closed doors and into another one, before Morris stopped and held the door opened:  
“Here we are. McGraw, Fick, meet Lieutenant Nicklas Backstrom.”  
This was a bigger room, but not quite big enough for the six desks that were crammed into it. There were boxes and folders stacked everywhere, and unopened packets were stashed along the walls. Only two persons were in there, a captain and a lieutenant. Both looked up from their work and rose to greet him.  
“Welcome to Bravo,” Captain McGraw said. “Nice to not be the limping company anymore.”  
Fick introduced himself. “We were in SERE together, right?” he then asked.  
“I believe so,” Backstrom replied. “Were you in the river capture?”  
Fick shook his head. “Nope. The betraying-cabin-gang. You ended up in the river?”  
“No, I got caught while they scanned it after they got the people swimming.”  
“Hell of a night, that one,” Fick concluded. “Here’s your desk. We heard that you were coming, so we managed to get rid of all the shit that had been stashed on it.” He paused, to look around the room. “Well, maybe not so rid of, but at least you have some space.”  
“Well, take care,” Morris said and patted Backstrom on the shoulder. “Use the time to get some bearings, and I’ll notify the CO of your arrival. He’ll be back tomorrow.”  
The First Sergeant left them there and Backstrom walked up to his desk.  
“Dave, is Alfredsson down at the motor pool?” Fick asked McGraw.  
“Weren’t they going to the sand pit this morning?”  
“I thought Kintzley had his unit there. I’ll ask Mike whenever he’s back.”

Ten minutes later, Bravo Two’s Gunny informed the three officers of the whereabouts of the Company’s Marines, and just before lunch Backstrom met his platoon sergeant for the first time.

Alfredsson had camo paint left on his face – contrasting weirdly with his light eyebrows – and the new digital pattern of his uniform was practically invisible under the sand and dust. He greeted Backstrom with a “Good day, sir,” a wide smile and a disheartening sitrep about the status of the vehicles.  
Alfredsson had split the platoon in two – one half working the vehicles and the other half doing what he called “team building exercises.” From the look of the exhausted faces of the young Marines dragging their feet towards the showers Backstrom concluded that Alfredsson was of the old work-together-until-you-drop school. When he commented on this, Alfredsson flashed the same wide smile and happily informed him that he had been running boot camp or BRC with a few of these men. “And the rest caught the idea pretty quick.”  
The halves switched back and forth, even though one of the two Sgt Ericssons mostly stayed at the motor pool, Alfredsson reported as they walked over.  
“The other platoons have looted the scrap yard since November, so we’re a bit late to the party. So far we’ve got four vehicles, and a fifth is supposed to be sent over before we deploy. Only one of the four actually starts without opening the hood.”  
Backstrom winced. Alfredsson tried to reassure him.  
“Well, at least the guy we got from Third LAR is a mechanic. The guy is working his ass of down there.”  
“His name’s Ericsson? And we’ve got two Ericssons?” Backstrom asked.  
“Three. But the two sergeants are brothers. Team One’s RTO brought his brother over.”  
“Is that even allowed?”  
“Probably not, but we decided not to tell, and no one asked.”  
“Is it going to affect them?”  
“No. I’ve seen Jonathan with Kronwall for a long time; they’re closer than brothers already. And Jimmie’s a professional, even though his Recon skills need some work.”  
“But we need him at the motor pool?”  
“You’ve got it, sir. Hopefully we get the spare parts we ordered from the local mechanic in Oceanside before next week’s over and release him from grease duty.”  
“We’ve ordered civilian spare parts?”  
“Me and Tallinder, the Spec Eq NCO. Not that sprains, filters and vents should count as special equipment when you’re dealing with Humvees, but we need the stuff and as SgtMaj Sixta so gracefully put it: We don’t trust the Marine Corps to give us the equipment we need.”


End file.
